


Incorrigible

by SunflowerSupreme



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: I’m not even kidding, M/M, Mild BDSM, Rough Sex, Sex as Therapy, Sort Of, elrond is a little shit, emo teen elrond, he just wants attention but he doesn’t know how to ask, he’s going through his caranthir phase and gil-galad is at his wit’s end, i don’t know what this fic is actually, i’ve never written actual smut before, somehow despite the tags this is a serious fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 03:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17890565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: Gil-Galad doesn't know what to think of Elrond.





	Incorrigible

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written smut before. So here's to hoping it works out.

Gil-Galad’s not so sure he trusts the Peredhel.

It doesn’t help that the man is eerily quiet, or that he always carries a knife with him (even in bed, he’d learned from a servant who had the misforture of startling Elrond awake), but the worst crime of all was a simple tattoo on the inside of his wrist.

“Kanofinwe did it for me,” he’d said when he’d seen Gil-Galad staring.

“It is the Star of Feanor,” Gil-Galad had replied.

“It is,” Elrond said evenly. “Would it please you if I said Maitimo held me down as they forced it on me?”

Gil-Galad often couldn’t tell if he meant any of what he was saying. Sometimes it seemed as though Elrond merely said the Feanorians had been monsters because that was what everyone expected, but that didn’t make listening to him any easier.

Even if Elrond had not made him so uneasy, drifting about the city like a wraith, always silent and watching, he still wouldn’t have known what to do with him. He was intelligent, of course, but almost too much so. He seemed to be horribly overqualified for everything, and always finished his work far too quickly but without any faults.

The greatest difficulty with finding a use for him was worsened by the fact that few seemed to want anything to do with him, several of his scribes going so far as to threaten to quit if ordered to work with him. Of course, that was after Elrond had gleefully told them about Maedhros threatening to stab him with a pen.

So Gil-Galad eventually decided that, if there was nowhere else he could send Elrond, he would just have to keep him himself (that seemed to please Elrond, and something about that made Gil-Galad even more uneasy).

Despite all his distrust of Elrond, the other is young and beautiful, and more than happy to talk about his sexual exploits (although Gil-Galad noted, those stories are saved for the king’s ears only). And, despite how much he told himself it was a bad idea, he found himself growing more and more attracted to him.

Elrond seemed far too aware of Gil-Galad’s attraction, and more than happy to turn it against him, brushing against him innocently and offering him pretty smiles as apologies.

It was becoming too much, so Gil-Galad had sent him off on a scouting trip and tried to forget about him. He hadn’t wanted Elrond to come back with a gaping wound in his side, of course, and when he’d seen the sorry state the other was in, he’d immediately apologized.

Elrond had brushed it off and said, “I’ve been given worse.” Gil-Galad knew him too well at that point, and didn’t ask questions he didn’t want answers to (not to mention, he was starting to seriously doubt their validity).

Despite Elrond’s instance that he was fine, the healers ordered him confined to bed, and out of a sense of pity (and not at all because he hated to have him out of his sight), Gil-Galad found himself in Elrond’s room with him.

They played chess and Elrond told him that when he’d lost at chess as a child, Maedhros had made him sleep in the stable.

Gil-Galad merely shook his head and captured Elrond’s king. The other seemed startled to have lost, and his mouth fell slightly open. Then he looked up at Gil-Galad and asked, “Do I have to sleep in the stable?”

He just wanted Elrond to shut up, he hadn’t meant to kiss him, but to his delight, Elrond allowed the kiss, tipping his head back with a moan.

Neither of them was too certain when they’d wound up pressed against the wall, but neither of them was complaining. Elrond, despite all his stories about his exploits, seemed to have no idea what to do, floundering helplessly and letting Gil-Galad lead him.

“And here I thought you’d done this before,” Gil-Galad murmured, biting at Elrond’s neck as he spoke.

“No,” Elrond admitted weakly. “I’ve never even been kissed before.”

Gil-Galad decided to remedy that (again) and pressed his lips against Elrond’s in a bruising kiss that left him breathless. “And yet I thought you’d fucked your way through the Feanorian camp?” he whispered.

Elrond snorted. “I believe I only told you I’d bedded Kanofinwe.”

“That was the gist of it, yes,” Gil-Galad agreed. “Something about fucking over a dead orc?”

“Nay,” Elrond said, eyes glinting, “I said that was Elros and the stableboy.” He paused, then grinned. “I claimed Kanofinwe had his way with me at the breakfast table.”

“Tut tut, Elrond,” he teased. “Lying to your king? Whatever shall I do with you?”

Seeing Elrond pinned against the wall, a slight red tinge of embarrassment on his ears, Gil-Galad suddenly knew exactly what he wanted to do. He lowered his voice and pressed his lips to Elrond’s ear as he murmured, “No, that won’t do at all. You’ll have to be punished for that.”

A shiver ran up Elrond’s spine, and for a moment Gil-Galad couldn’t decide if he’d scared him or not. Then the youth muttered, “Oh Valar yes.”

Gil-Galad grinned. He pulled back from Elrond, leaving the other still leaning on the wall, panting slightly. “Take off your belt,” he ordered. Elrond did as he was told, passing the belt to him and then looking at his king expectantly.

“Over the desk,” he said, and Elrond was far too happy to obey. He moved to stand behind the other, resting one hand on his back as he leaned to press a kiss to the back of his neck. “You tell me to stop and I will,” he murmured, running his hand over the other’s back.

“Don’t you dare,” Elrond hissed.

Gil-Galad grinned and straightened, folding the belt in half before snapping it against Elrond’s exposed ass. The other yelped, then he shoved in hips backward in a clear request for Gil-Galad to continue.

The king was more than happy to oblige, striking him several more times as he gave soft yelps and twitched around on the desk.

Gil-Galad jerked him to his feet, then turned him around just as quickly and forced him to sit his bruised flesh on the desk. Elrond hissed slightly, stuttering out, “Mind my side.” Then he pulled Gil-Galad into a rough kiss.

Elrond’s hands fumbled into Gil-Galad’s pants, feeling for his length. He pushed him away, however, grabbing his hands and pulling them above his head. “Oh no,” he whispered, “you’re still in trouble.”

He pulled Elrond to the bed, pushing him down on it and claiming him in another brutal kiss. “How far do you want me to take this?” he murmured into the Peredhel’s ear.

“I don’t expect to be able to walk tomorrow,” Elrond replied with a grin.

Gil-Galad took that as permission to roughly turn Elrond over (still careful of his side) and pull his pants down to expose his ass.

The skin was red from the whipping, and he couldn't resist slapping it again. Elrond yelped and his hand darted down toward his own cock. But before he could touch himself, Gil-Galad caught his hands and pulled them over his head, “How many times do I have to remind you this is a punishment?” he purred.

“I’m sorry,” Elrond whispered. “Please forgive me.”

He didn’t have any oil and didn’t want to risk injuring Elrond (or stopping to procure any) so instead, he slipped his hand down between them and pulled his own pants down. He pressed himself into the cleft of Elrond’s ass, rubbing against him easily for friction, his hand wrapping around to grab Elrond and stroke him. The Peredhel whined loudly and pushed himself back, despite the soreness in his ass, letting out soft pleas and whimpers.

It was, in Gil-Galad’s mind, over far too quickly, but the look on Elrond’s face as he spilled himself across the bed was too much, and Gil-Galad followed soon after.

Together they slumped into the bed in exhausted bliss. Elrond curled into Gil-Galad with a sigh and mumbled something Gil-Galad couldn’t quite catch.

“Hmm?” Gil-Galad asked, pushing himself into an almost sitting position and trying (but not succeeding) to pull his pants back up).

“They weren’t so bad you know,” Elrond said softly, rolling to face away from Gil-Galad. “Not to us.”

“Then why-”

“Because it is what people want. No one wants to hear that they loved us and cherished us. They want to hear about the kinslayers as monsters.” 

Gil-Galad draped his arm over Elrond, pulling him close, wrapping his finger’s around the half-elf’s wrists. “You don’t have to lie anymore,” he told him.

“It wasn’t all a lie,” Elrond said quickly. “Much of it happened, I merely exaggerated.”

“Oh?”

“Well, Maedhros did threaten to stab me with a quill, but he said it in jest.”

The thought of Maedhros Feanorian telling jokes to children was a strange one indeed, but more comforting than the thought of him threatening one.

Gil-Galad ran his hand over Elrond’s wrist soothingly, then drew back in surprise as his fingers came away stained black. “Your tattoo smudged.”

Elrond snorted, running his fingers over the remains of the tattoo and smudging it completely. “It’s not a tattoo, it’s just writing ink.”

“You,” Gil-Galad complained, “Are incorrigible.”


End file.
